Home of the Brave (37 page)

“It was after Lake
Okeechobee. You got the fever after you was wounded.”

“Say, now. You couldn’t of
been that angel what took care of me, could ya?”

“I don’t know about bein’ no
angel, but I took care o’ you ‘till they packed you
out.”

“Well, I’m smooth obliged to
y’ Ma’am. And I’m plumb sorry I didn’t recognize y’ from back then.
Sure seems funny that I don’t. I usual have a knack for rememberin’
folks, and you bein’ so tall and all.” He shook his head. “Don’t
see how I could of forgot ya’.”

“You was flat on yer back so
I don’t recon you’d o’ noticed that I’m tall. Besides, I was
younger and a mite prettier then and you was delirious most of the
time.”

“So you been followin’ Zach
Taylor’s camp all o’ this time?”

“My husband was in the
Seventh.”

“Was?”

“He died when we was leavin’
Jefferson Barracks. General Taylor let me stay on as the laundress.
Shouldn’t of ‘cause I ain’t a soldier’s wife no more. But he looked
the other way since I been a camp follower for so long.”

“Sorry about yer
husband.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t miss
him much.”

“So you come down the River
from St. Louis did ya?”

She nodded.

“Could you tell me exactly
how you got here? I got a good reason fer askin’.”

“I don’t mind tellin’ and I
don’t think it’s no military secret. I brung this wagon cross
country from the Nueces River.”

“Before that, I
mean?”

She shrugged. “From
Jefferson Barracks to Corpus Christi Bay on a river boat
steamer.”

“With Zach? I mean, was you
on the same steamboat with General Taylor?”

“Yup.”

“Did you perchance hear tell
of a Louisiana senator name of Slidell that was maybe on that same
boat?”

She nodded. “Him and some
folks got aboard in New Orleans and then went on to Mexico City.
They stopped for a bit at the camp on the Nueces.”

“Was there a lady with ‘em
name of Van Buskirk?”

“Oh yer talking about
Marina.”

“Yes Ma’am. That’s the very
lady. I take it you talked with her some?”

“I did. I met up with her in
St. Louis. We hit it off. Smartest lady I ever did see. Speaks
every kind o’ language there is. French, perfect Spanish just like
a don, or she can talk street Tex-Mex. Don’t matter to her. Latin
even. If that don’t beat all.”

“Did she happen to say how
she was plannin’ to get up to her son’s place on the Colorado after
she come on back from Mexico City?”

Mrs. Knight looked
thoughtful. “Well no, but she said she’d see me again on the way up
to visit her son, so I reckon she was comin’ through
here.”

“So she knew you was comin’
here, did she?”

Mrs. Knight nodded. “We was
movin’ out that very next day.”

“Would she know exactly
where this fort is now? I mean, it weren’t even built
then.”

The woman pointed south. “Is
that Matamoros?”

“It is.”

“Then they put this fort in
the right place and Marina knows where to look. Say, I’m lettin’
you starve whilst I gab. Sit you down at a table and I’ll pour you
some coffee. I made it over a hour ago so it’s gonna be a bit
stout.”

“Sounds good to me.” He sat
down.

“How many eggs do you
want?”

“I could eat a half of a
dozen but you better start rationin’ what you got.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s a Mexican General
upriver a piece who’s probly working his way down here so as to
surround us.”

“Do tell? Does Major Brown
know that?”

“I told him. Whether he
believes what I say or not is a different story.”

“How long do we
have?”

“A week, maybe a bit more if
the Mexican general decides to bring cannons across the
river.”

“What’s yer
guess?”

“My guess is that he’ll
figure them cannons over to Matamoros is all he needs to blow us
outta here.”

“Could he be
right?”

“Doubt it. This here little
fort ain’t gonna be no pushover. If somebody gave me a choice to
assault it or defend it, I’d pick defend.”

“General Taylor his own-self
told them how and where to build it,” she said proudly.

“Did you know that him and
General Van Buskirk, that’s Marina’s husband, is good
friends?”

“Yup, I saw him and Marina
talkin’ together on the steamer. They seemed like it. Friends, I
mean. Suppose he’ll come back if we’re attacked? General Taylor I
mean.”

“Oh yeah. He’ll hear the
guns and he’ll come a runnin’. But there’s no tellin’ what he’ll
run into on the way.”

“How about you?” she
asked.

“How about me,
what?”

“You stickin’ or
skedaddlin’.”

“I come down here to fetch
Marina Van Buskirk, so I guess I’ll stick ‘till she either shows up
or somebody tells me she went north some other way.”

“You ain’t
scared?”

“Naw. I spent some time when
I was a boy bein’ scared, but none of the stuff that I was a-scared
of ever happened. Finally I decided being scared was a waste o’
time and I give it up.”

She laughed. “You a marryin’
kind o’ man?”

“Nope. You the lookin’ for a
husband kind o’ woman?”

“Yup. Gotta have one if I’m
gonna keep on camp followin’ and I kinda like sharin’ m’ bed with a
man.”

“Well if I was the marryin’
kind I’d be obliged to ask fer yer hand.”

She gave him a
smile.

“And I’d be happy to share
yer bed ‘till you find you a husband.”

“Six eggs?”

He made a face. “Thought we
just talked about rationin’ them eggs.”

“Eggs don’t keep no way. We
got plenty of beans if we get besieged.”

“Six eggs is about
right.”

May 3, 1846

Fort Texas, Republic of
Texas

The artillery bombardment
began at dawn. Fort Texas returned fire with four 18-pounders under
command of Captain Loud and four galloper guns of Lieutenant
Braxton Bragg’s light artillery company. The noise was
terrific.

“Good mornin’, Sarah,”
Captain Whipple shouted over the reports.

“Good mornin’ to you
Josiah,” she replied in a very loud voice. “Coffee?” She put her
hand over the cup to keep out the sand and palm wood splinters
produced by a ricocheted cannonball and then offered the cup to
him.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He
took the cup from her. “Looks like yer fixin’ to have a brisk
laundry business.” He pointed at several terrified infantrymen who
had taken shelter under her wagon.

“I told ‘em what you told
me, that one place was as good as another, but they didn’t
listen.”

He sat down at the table and
sipped his coffee. “Got any eggs left?”

“Sure do.”

“Might as well cook ‘em
before they’re all busted.”

“How many?”

“All of ‘em.”

She chuckled. “Even you
can’t eat that many eggs, Josiah.”

“I was thinkin’ that servin’
everybody breakfast might calm ‘em down a bit.”

“This here is the officer’s
mess.”

He shrugged. “There’s a
handful o’ officers, a passel of scared rankers and a bunch of eggs
that are fixin’ to go to waste.”

“I’ll cook ‘em if you’ll
serve ‘em.”

“Might work better the other
way around. Havin’ a woman servin’ ‘em breakfast could be all they
need to find their courage. That’ll make a big difference when the
Mess-kins charge.”

“When will they
charge?”

“When they think these boys
don’t have no more fight left. Mess-kins ain’t kind to captives,
by-the-by. Ask any o’ the dead folks from the Alamo or
Goliad.”

“You cook, I’ll
serve.”

Whipple started toward the
wagon but was slammed to the ground by the impact of a huge
explosion. Dazed, he managed to crawl to Mrs. Knight who was half
buried in mud. “You okay?” he asked, digging away mud with both
hands.

“Yeah,” she managed. “I
think I still have all my parts. What the hell was
that?”

“A secondary explosion, I
think. They must of hit one of our powder stores with a shell
somehow.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand. “Can you
stand up?”

She sat up and took his
hand. “I need to get over to where that explosion went off and see
if I can help the wounded.”

“I’ll do that. You make them
eggs.”

“This don’t seem like quite
the right time fer servin’ eggs.”

Whipple was looking toward
the ruins of a small powder bunker. “This is the perfect time for
servin’, but maybe you should serve coffee with a little whiskey to
sweeten it instead o’ eggs.”

She tried to see what he was
looking at through the smoke. “What?”

“Seems like Major Brown was
openin’ the bunker when that shell lit off. These men is gonna be
scared without a commander. We gotta do what we can to prop up them
two young artillery officers. I’ll go pick up the pieces of the
major and you try to prop up their courage with coffee and
whisky.”

~

At Port Isabel, General
Zachery Taylor had heard the guns and was already marching back
toward Fort Texas. Mexican General Arista left fourteen guns at
Matamoros and fifteen-hundred men across the river on the Texas
side under the command of General Francisco Mejia. Then he rushed
out to meet Taylor.

May 8, 1846

Palo Alto, Republic of
Texas

To avoid what he knew would
be a devastating bayonet charge from General Taylor’s American
forces; General Arista arrayed his three thousand men in a line
over a mile wide.

Taylor however, had weapons
and tactics unknown to Arista and he deployed his horse-drawn
galloper guns in a Flying Artillery maneuver that had been
perfected by his artillery officer, Major Samuel
Ringgold.

Arista, seeing his infantry
being cut to pieces, sent his eleven-hundred strong cavalry to
flank the artillery. The American guns, however, were too
maneuverable and they followed the cavalry with deadly
accuracy.

By sundown, the Mexicans had
two hundred-fifty casualties to the American’s fifty-four. One of
the American dead was Major Samuel Ringgold.

The next day the Americans
woke to find the Mexican Army gone. Taylor immediately set out in
pursuit.

May 9, 1846

Resaca de la Palma, Republic
of Texas

From Palo Alto, General
Zachery Taylor, with only seventeen hundred combat ready troops,
followed Arista’s reinforced army of over four thousand to a palm
grove near a partially dry riverbed. The initial fighting was
fierce and for a short time it appeared that the American attack
might be repelled. But a cavalry charge from Colonel Charles A. May
turned the Mexican flank and the Mexican troops fled across the
river toward Matamoros.

~

“We captured Arista’s
writing desk, his silver service, the colors of Mexico’s Tampico
Battalion, all their baggage and twenty artillery pieces,” Colonel
May said to General Taylor.

Taylor looked up as an aide
approached. “Yes?”

“There’s a Texas Ranger here
who says he knows you, sir. Apparently he was here in Fort Texas
during the bombardment.”

“That’s Fort Brown, now,”
May corrected.

“Yes, sir. I
forgot.”

“Did he give you his name?”
Taylor asked.

“Yes, sir. Captain Josiah
Whipple.”

“Send him in,” Taylor said
with a grin. He looked at May. “Do you remember Colonel
Whipple?”

“Yes, sir. Who could forget
him?” May chuckled.

“Dang,” Whipple said as he
came into the tent. “I had a easier time seein’ the King last time
I was to London.” He shook hands with both men. “Sure was
thoughtful of you two to show up at last. A week of getting’
bombarded was just about as much as I needed.”

“Sit down and tell us what
you’re doing here, Josiah,” Taylor suggested.

Whipple pulled a chair away
from the table, turned it around and sat astraddle it. “I come down
here to fetch Yank Van Buskirk’s wife back north.”

Taylor and May exchanged a
glance that wasn’t lost on Whipple.

“Marina ain’t been kilt or
wounded, has she?” Whipple asked in alarm.

Both men shook their
heads.

“Then what?”

“I’ve asked Marina to act as
our interpreter,” Taylor said. “She speaks Spanish, Nahuatl, Mayan
and several other dialects plus a number of Indian
languages.”